The Slushee Man
by MeganQueenOfScots
Summary: Harold Hill ditches the boy band idea in favor of...SLUSHEES! In this screenplay, he attempts to sell slushee tickets to the inhabitants of River City, and falls in love with the snooty ice-cream lady, Marian Paroo. WARNING: Strawberries are involved!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hi! Just a brief warning, scene one is **_**chaotic.**_** You might have some issues if you're not familiar with the musical. Then again, if you weren't familiar with the musical, chances are you wouldn't be here. Right. Silly me. Anywho….this is scenes one and two, and should let you know what you're in for. The plan is to have 2-3 scenes per chapter, depending on length. Also, after scene five, things will probably move slower, as I haven't written past then.**

**As always, these characters aren't mine. They're Meredith Willson's. I tried to get him to give them to me, but he kind of hates me because I made fun of him for having a girl's name. I do lose more character custody battles that way.**

**Well, you didn't come here to hear me babble in an author's note! You came here to hear me babble in a screenplay! So without further ado….**

_**THE SLUSHEE MAN: A MUSICAL!**_

**ACT I**

SCENE ONE: I Do Not Want a Strawberry Fruit Chew!

_(Scene begins on board a train, with about 12 newspaper-reading people who, conveniently, are all traveling salesmen! Coincidence? Definitely not. Just a plot device.)_

Conductor: River City. River City, next station stop. I am incapable. Of speaking in complete sentences.

Random Salesman 1: You're crazy with heat. Credit is no good for a notion salesman!

Random Salesman 2: Wh—

Conductor: Boooooooard! All aboooooard!

Random Salesman 2: He couldn't have waited until I said my line, could he? Anyway, what's wrong with credit? I bet in about ninety years, people will be whipping out credit cards to buy everything!

Random Salesman 1: Idiot! It's old-fashioned! Charlie, you're an ice cream salesman. Your firm give credit?

Charlie Cowell: _(Licks ice cream and frantically reads the screenplay that's stapled to his newspaper.)_ Uh….he's a fake, and he doesn't know the territory?

_(__Random Salesman 5__, who is sitting next to him, kindly points out the part they're at.)_

Charlie Cowell: Oh, right. _(Clears his throat.)_ No, sir.

Random Salesman 1: _(Looks relieved)_ Nor anybody else.

Conductor: River City. River City next.

All the Random Salesmen, Charlie, and Harold Hill: WE ESTABLISHED THAT! SHUT UP AND LET US ARGUE POINTLESSLY!

Conductor: Okay, okay, sorry. Just thought I should tell you that we're, y'know, going to River City, and everything….

Charlie Cowell: You say "River City" one more time, and I'll smear this ice cream all over your stupid pinstriped uniform.

Conductor: NOOO! Not the uniform! Mummy thinks pinstripes make me look dashing! _(He exits the stage and hides behind the curtain.)_

Random Salesman 1: Can I do my cool line now?

Everyone else: Sure.

Random Salesman 1: Yay! You can talk, you can talk, you can bicker, you can talk, you can bicker, bicker, bicker, you can talk, you can talk, you can talk, talk, talk, talk, bicker, bicker, bicker, you can talk all ya wanna but it's different than it was! That was a spectacular run-on sentence, wasn't it?

Charlie Cowell: _(Ignores the last part.)_ No it ain't! But you gotta know the territory!

Random Salesman 3: Good thing my line is cool, too, because it's my only one in this screenplay. Sh, sh, sh, sh, sh, sh, sh. Why it's the Model T Ford that made the trouble, made the people wanna go, wanna get, wanna get, wanna get up and go. 7, 8, 9, 10, 12, 13, 22, 23 miles to the county seat—

Random Salesman 1: Yes sir, yes sir! Who's gonna patronize the little bitty two-by-four kind of store anymore? Wow, that rhymed! I'm a poet and I don't even know it!

Charlie Cowell: I didn't know it was possible, but you've actually beat the conductor for the Most Annoying Person on This Train award.

Random Salesman 1: YAY! I won an award!

Charlie Cowell: _(Face palms.)_

_(Train slows down and stops. __Conductor__ appears once more, sporting red eyes and a handkerchief.) _

Conductor: _(Sniffs loudly.)_ We have now crossed the state line into Iowa. River Ci— _(Charlie stands up with ice cream in hand, somehow managing to look menacing.)_ Um….the town that we're stopping in has a population of 2,212. And cigarettes are illegal. _(He confiscates a cigarette from Random Salesman 4.) _

_(Exit __Conductor__.)_

Harold Hill: You realize that you all forgot to do your lines concerning me, right….?

Charlie Cowell: Oh yeah! Well, Harold Hill is a fake who sells slushee tickets to kids and then runs away with their money. AND HE DOESN'T KNOW THE TERRITORY, because apparently that's significant. I hate his guts and would like nothing better than to squeal on him pretty darn loudly.

Harold Hill: Thank you. _(He stands up.)_ Gentlemen, you intrigue me. _(Aside: Would intrigue a mental institution, too….)_ I think I ought to give Iowa a try.

Charlie Cowell: _(Falls out of his seat trying to see if __Harold Hill__'s suitcase has his name written on it in cheesily big letters. He quickly scans the screenplay.)_ I don't believe I caught your name….

Harold Hill: _(Holds up his suitcase. The words "Professor Harold Hill" are written on it in cheesily big letters.)_ I don't believe I dropped it.

Audience: _(Applause, cheers, and a few inexplicable wolf-whistles.)_ OH! Sick 1912 burn!

_(Curtain falls, but the stage crew people forget to turn off the microphones. Voices are heard from behind the curtain.)_

Charlie Cowell: _(Triumphantly.)_ That scene really didn't make sense, did it? I bet we seriously messed with the audiences' heads!

Random Salesman 4:_ (Sulkily.)_ Speak for yourself. I didn't have any lines, AND they took my cigarette away!

Harold Hill: _(Randomly.)_ No, I do not want a strawberry chew! I'm allergic to strawberries! What's wrong with you, woman?

Stage Crew Person: _(Conveniently is picked up by __Harold Hill__'s microphone.)_ Well in that case, you can just shove that up your—

_(Microphones are turned off just in time, and hundreds of indignant mothers in the audience take their hands off their children's ears.)_

**SCENE TWO: OMG! **

_(__Harold Hill__ is walking around the town square of River City. Incidentally, it's more of a circle, but that's not the point. Suddenly, absolutely everyone in the town comes out into the square/circle and sings an impromptu song.)_

_Song: "Iowa Fickle" ("Iowa Stubborn")_

_Absolutely Everyone__: Oh, there's nothing halfway_

_About the Iowa way to treat you_

_When we treat you, which we may not do at all._

_There's an Iowa kind of changeable_

_Wavering, and unstable attitude_

_Which we've never been without that we recall._

_We can be cold as the freezer of the ice cream vendor_

_If you ask about our weather in July._

_Harold Hill__: (Spoken.) What a contradiction! These people must be fickle!_

_Absolutely everyone__: And we're so temperamental_

_That it takes us 'bout twelve hours_

_Just to make up our minds, and then we change 'em again!_

_But what the heck, you're welcome_

_Come and join our picnic_

_But we might reconsider and send you home!_

_You really ought to give Iowa a try._

_Provided you're contrary…._

_(Song pauses.)_

Kid: Good morning, Mayor Shinn!

Mayor Shinn: YOU WATCH YOUR PHRASEOLOGY!

Kid: _(Dies of fright.)_

Constable: Good morning, Mayor Shinn!

Mayor Shinn: Good morning indeed, if you want to go around in your drawers all day. _(He wipes his sweating forehead.)_

Alma Hix: And there I was, in Madison Hospital, and no one came to me. Cousin Will never came, Aunt Bertha never came—

Ethel Toffelmier: Your Aunt Bertha's dead!

Alma Hix: _(Bursts into tears.)_ Why didn't anyone ever tell me? AUNTIE!!

_(Exit __Alma Hix__.)_

_(Song continues.)_

_Absolutely Everyone Except Alma Hix And The Dead Kid__: We can be cold as the freezer of the ice cream vendor_

_If you ask about our weather in July._

_And we're so temperamental_

_That it takes us 'bout twelve hours_

_Just to make up our minds, and then we change 'em again!_

_But we'll give you our shirt_

_And a back to go with it _

_If your crops should happen to die._

_Harold Hill:__ Uh, that's nice of you and everything, but I'm not a farmer—_

_Absolutely Everyone Except Alma Hix And The Dead Kid__: You really ought to give Iowa  
Hawkeye Iowa  
Dubuque, Des Moines,  
Davenport, Marshalltown,  
Mason City, Keokuk, Ames,  
Clear Lake  
Ought to give Iowa a try!_

_(Song ends.)_

Harold Hill: Because I already know the names of everyone in this town, regardless of the fact that I just got here five minutes ago, I was wondering if there was a Mr. Squires around? Ah, Mr. Squires!

Jacey Squires: Yes?

Harold Hill: I was interested in a rig for Sunday afternoon, if you could accommodate?

Jacey Squires: Then you ought to see the man in charge of hiring rigs!

Harold Hill: _(Points, bemused, to the name tag on __Jacey Squires'__ shirt that reads: Jacey Squires- Man In Charge of Hiring Rigs.) _But your name tag says….

Jacey Squires: Oh, I just wear that to mess around with tourists. Not that we get them too often. I can't help you with who the man in charge of hiring rids actually is, because I'm just maddeningly unhelpful like that. However, if you stick around here, one of your old cronies is going to show up, who doubles as a neat plot device.

Harold Hill: Really? How interesting! I don't think I've ever met a plot device before!

_(Exit __Jacey Squires__.)_

Harold Hill: Wonder when the plot device is going to show up?

Marcellus Washburn: Hey! Greg!

Harold Hill: Marcellus! And don't call me Greg, okay? The name's Hill, Professor Harold Hill.

Marcellus Washburn: If I lived a few decades later, I would say that was _so_ James Bond. But since I live in 1912, I'll say that it's no use to tell me not to call you Greg, because I read ahead in the screenplay and I don't call you "Harold Hill" once in the entire musical.

Harold Hill: _(Hopefully.)_ How 'bout "Professor Hill"?

Marcellus Washburn: Nope, sorry. So anyway, what's the new pitch?

_(__Harold Hill__ mimes eating a slushee, which takes some talent, because it is actually much harder than it sounds.)_

Marcellus Washburn: You're not back in the slushee business?! Last I heard, you were making boys' bands!

Harold Hill: Nah, they just don't have the level of appeal that slushees have! I mean, have you ever met anyone that said no to a slushee?

Marcellus Washburn: Greg….no one's invented slushees yet. You're just selling them tickets and leaving. Right?

Harold Hill: Of course! What, you didn't think I'd gone legitimate on you, did you?

Marcellus Washburn: For a second there, I actually did. But anyway, there's a stuck-up ice cream vendor who'll knock you down before you get your bag unpacked.

Harold Hill: Ice cream vendor? Male or…. _(Nudges __Marcellus Washburn__.)_ heh heh …._female_?

Marcellus Washburn: The ice cream lady? She's the librarian! _(Nudges __Harold Hill__.)_ _Female_! If you didn't pick up on that from my use of feminine pronouns!

Harold Hill: Excellent, that's just what I wanted to hear. Point her out to me if she passes by. _(He mimes eating ice cream, which is considerably easier than miming eating a slushee.)_

Marcellus Washburn: All right, I'll point her out. _(Also mimes eating ice cream.)_

Harold Hill: So….what's new around here? What can I use?

Marcellus Washburn: ….Nothing. Except that the random kid that died when Mayor Busybody told him to "WATCH HIS PHRASEOLOGY" was just told he's lactose intolerant. Least of his problems now….

Harold Hill: Lactose intolerant….marmalade….ice cream….my Aunt Mabel….slushees….pigeons….that'll do! Check me in at the hotel, I've got a plan!

Marcellus Washburn: _(Takes the suitcase in an unflatteringly servile manner.) _Sir yes sir!

Harold Hill: _(To a random townsperson.) _Are you Mr. Dunlop?

Mr. Dunlop: No, I'm your Aunt Mabel….

Harold Hill: Really? I simply _adore _that sweater you knitted me for Christmas!

Mr. Dunlop: ….Psych!

Harold Hill: I _knew_ you didn't have that much facial hair! Anyway, either you are closing your eyes to a situation you do not wish to acknowledge, or you are unaware of the level of catastrophe indicated by the presence of an ice cream shop in your community!

Mr. Dunlop: I don't….understand…. _(His brain explodes. A whistling janitor cleans up the mess.)_

_(Absolutely everyone in the town comes out into the square while __Harold Hill__ sings an impromptu song, most of which he forgets. He does get across the main points, though.)_

_Mini-song: "Ya Got Dairy" ("Ya Got Trouble")_

_Harold Hill__: Weeeeeell….ya got dairy my friends._

_I say, lots and lots of dairy._

_Blah blah blah, ice cream is bad for you…._

_Yada yada yada….I call that gluttony,_

_The first big step on the road to degrada,_

_Blah blah blah….gotta find a way to keep the young ones healthy after school!_

_(Song ends.)_

_(Townspeople disperse. Several random people come to congratulate __Harold Hill__ on his spectacular song.)_

Random Person: I must say, that fantastic song has me completely convinced that something needs to be done about the nutrition level of our town! Thank you for opening my eyes!

Harold Hill: _(Raises eyebrows.)_ Anytime.

Zaneeta Shinn: OMG!!!1 THAT WAS, LYK, TOTALY AWSUM!!!!!1!!ELEVEN!!!!1

Harold Hill: GTHAFM!

English translation: Get the heck away from me!

Zaneeta Shinn: _(GTHAFH.)_

English translation: _(Gets the heck away from him.)_

_(__Marian Paroo__ walks by in a way that lets the audience know that she is snooty, a librarian, highly dislikes the protagonist, and enjoys strawberries.)_

Marcellus Washburn: _(Runs up to __Harold Hill__. He mimes eating ice cream and points very blatantly at __Marian Paroo__.)_

Harold Hill: _(Laughs in disbelief.)_ She's a _flagpole_? I thought you said she was female?

Marcellus Washburn: There are female flagpoles, how else do little baby flagpoles happen? But that's not the point. I was pointing to the lady _next to _the flagpole….oh wait, she's not there anymore! Go and chase her!

Harold Hill: _(Goes and chases her.)_

**A/N: Wow, eight pages on my word processor! And I'm having trouble writing a three-page World Cultures paper….Soooo….how did you like it? Let me know….in a review! (Bet you didn't see that one coming. I'm just that diabolical. ^.^)**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hey there, faithful readers, unfaithful readers, anteaters, and steam-heaters! Sorry, I was in a rhyming mood. But anyway, down yonder webpage you shall find scenes three, four, and five of your favorite musical, "The Slushee Man"! (Don't worry, if it's not your favorite musical, I won't kill you….much. You'll just be MOSTLY dead, meaning of course that you are slightly alive. Oh wait, this isn't a good way to get reviews. Or cookies. I like cookies. Mmmmm…..)**

**Okay, I'm done now. You can read safely.**

**EDIT: I have now fixed the numerous technical errors in this chapter. Heh. Rather embarrassing, they were. But they're gone now. I think.**

**SCENE THREE: Does This Even Count as a Scene?**

Harold Hill: _(Catches up to __Marian Paroo__. Drops his hankie.)_ Excuse me, did you drop your—

Marian Paroo: No.

Harold Hill: Didn't I meet you in—

Marian Paroo: _(Understandably getting a bit peeved.)_ No!

Harold Hill: You know, this scene is a bit short. Does it even count as a scene?

Marian Paroo: _(A bit more than a bit peeved.)_ _**NO!!!!!!!!**_

Harold Hill: I didn't think so.

**SCENE FOUR: What Happened To Your Face, Anyway?**

_(Scene opens in __Marian Paroo__'s house, from which she is curiously absent. __Mrs. Paroo__, a very scary looking Irishwoman, is mutilating a piece of fabric with a needle. __Amaryllis__ is playing a comically mistake-filled piece on the piano.)_

Amaryllis: _(Plays a comically mistake-filled piece on the piano, and ends on a wrong note.)_

Mrs. Paroo: _(Stomps over in a threatening way and plays the correct note with an inordinate amount of strength.)_

Amaryllis: _(Plays her comically mistake-filled piece again, and hits THE SAME WRONG NOTE AGAIN!!)_

Mrs. Paroo: _(Grabs a sledgehammer from thin air and uses it to bang the right note.)_

Amaryllis: _(Plays the comically mistake-filled piece for the third time, and gets the SAME FREAKING NOTE wrong for the THIRD FREAKING TIME!!!)_

Mrs. Paroo: _(Rips off __Amaryllis__'s face and slams the right note, effectively breaking the key.)_

_(Enter __Marian Paroo__.)_

Marian Paroo: Mother! Did you just—

Mrs. Paroo: _(Steps surreptitiously in front of __Amaryllis__ to hide the fact that her face has been ripped off.)_

Marian Paroo: —BREAK MY PIANO KEY?!?!

Mrs. Paroo: Um, well….about that….

Marian Paroo: I can't believe you! Amaryllis, you're bleeding all over the piano. Try and make it stop, won't you?

Amaryllis: Sorry. Can I play my exercises now?

Marian Paroo: As long as they're not comically mistake filled.

Amaryllis: _(Plays her exercises. Thankfully they are not mistake-filled, because __Mrs. Paroo__'s needle has mutated to the size of a baseball bat, and she is brandishing it threateningly.)_

Mrs. Paroo: I don't remember the library being open last Fourth of July.

Marian Paroo: It was, Mama, all evening. Mama, a man with a suitcase has been following me around town.

Mrs. Paroo: _(Considerably interested.)_ Oh? Who?

Marian Paroo: How should I know? It's not like his name was written on the suitcase in cheesily big letters!

Mrs. Paroo: Well, I should certainly say not. But did he say anythin'?

Marian Paroo: He tried.

Mrs. Paroo: Did _you_ say anythin'?

Marian Paroo: Mama, of course not! What kind of a loser actually _talks _to people who talk to them? I mean, they could end up getting to know and befriend that person! And I'm the friendless, snobbish love interest of the protagonist! Can you not see the twisted logic?

Mrs. Paroo: Strangely enough, I can. Seriously, though, you should try to get yourself a man. They're pretty useful, unless you want intelligent conversation, that is. Men are more the pack mule kind of beings.

Amaryllis: _(Still playing her exercises.)_ GOOD GOLLY GOSH! HAVE YOUR DARN SINGING-ARGUMENT ALREADY BEFORE MY FINGERS FALL OFF!

Marian Paroo: All right! No need for caps lock! And what happened to your face, anyway?

_Song: "If You Don't Mind" ("If You Don't Mind")_

_Marian Paroo__: Mama, if you don't mind my saying so, _

_You have a bad habit_

_Of ripping off people's faces—_

_Mrs. Paroo__: No, I haven't ripped her face!_

_And we were talking about that stranger—_

_Marian Paroo__: What stranger?_

_Mrs. Paroo__: The only one this town has seen for years!_

_Now I know all about your standards._

_If you don't mind my saying so, _

_There's not a man alive_

_Who can hope to measure up _

_To Paul Bunyan, St. Pat, and every other famous person in the world. _

_Even if you can quote Balzac and Shakespeare,_

_That doesn't mean you'll ever be a wife!_

_And you'll end up livin' all alone_

_With nothing but your library full o' books!_

_(Song ends.)_

Marian Paroo: What a ridiculous, one-sided argument!

Amaryllis: Can I get a drink?

_(Enter __Grammar Mafia__.)_

Grammar Mafia: Say "May I get a drink" or we'll kidnap every person you've ever spoken to in your life! SAY IT NOW!!!!!!

Amaryllis: Mimblewimble?

Grammar Mafia: Good enough.

_(Exit __Grammar Mafia__.)_

_(Exit __Amaryllis__, very quickly and to the side of the stage opposite from where the __Grammar Mafia__ just left.)_

Marian Paroo: Shall we make small talk while we wait for Amaryllis to come back from her inordinately long drink?

Mrs. Paroo: I believe we shall.

Marian Paroo: _(Twiddles her thumbs.)_ So, how 'bout them local sports teams?

Mrs. Paroo: None to speak of.

Marian Paroo: Really? Not even a lousy one that we don't like to speak of?

Mrs. Paroo: Nope, unless you count professional bagpipe playing as a sport.

_(There is a small pause.)_

Marian Paroo: So, how 'bout them local professional bagpipe players?

_(Enter __Winthrop Paroo__. Incidentally, he is made entirely of strawberry. I kid you not.)_

Winthrop Paroo:_ (Runs right past __Marian Paroo__ and __Mrs. Paroo__.)_

Mrs. Paroo: Winthrop! It's after dark! You could've been eaten! And is that any way to walk into the house?

Winthrop: _(Doesn't say anything, because he is a strawberry and strawberries don't have vocal cords.)_

Mrs. Paroo: I'll have a kiss from me boy. _(Kisses him.)_ Mmm, strawberry. Much better than the average lipstick.

_(Enter __Amaryllis__.)_

Amaryllis: Hello, Winthrop!

Winthrop: _(Doesn't say anything, because he is a strawberry and strawberries don't have vocal cords.)_

Amaryllis: I'm having a party this Saturday, and I'd _especially _like it if you'd come! *HINT HINT*

Winthrop: _(Doesn't say anything, because he is a strawberry and strawberries don't have vocal cords.)_

Amaryllis: There'll be games, and my favorite strawberry ice cream! Which is kind of ironic, because you're made of strawberry! So it would be cannibalism for you! HARHARHAR!

Winthrop: _(Runs off the stage, but doesn't cry, because he is a strawberry and strawberries don't have tear ducts.)_

Amaryllis: Why does he get so upset, just because he's made of strawberry?

Marian Paroo: NO, BECAUSE INSENSITIVE, IRRITATING LITTLE SODS LIKE YOU LAUGH AT HIM FOR IT! HAS THAT NOTION ENTERED YOUR GNAT-SIZED BRAIN, OR WILL I HAVE TO POUND IT IN WITH THIS HANDY SLEDGEHAMMER?!

Amaryllis: _(Backing away.)_ Um, actually, I'm good. Thanks for the offer, though.

Marian Paroo: _(Forgets to take off caps lock.)_ YOU'RE WELCOME! AND DON'T WORRY THAT HE DOESN'T LIKE YOU, HE HATES EVERYONE! IF NOT WINTHROP, THERE WILL BE SOMEONE ELSE!

Amaryllis: _(Cries, because she is a human and humans have tear ducts.) _Never! I'll end up an old maid like you!

Marian Paroo: _(Is twenty-six.)_

Amaryllis: I'm sorry, Miss Marian.

Marian Paroo: That's all right, darling. You'd be surprised how much I get that comment.

Amaryllis: You see, without a sweetheart, you have no one to say goodnight to on the evening star!

Marian Paroo: For the time being, you can just say "Goodnight, my someone," and fill in the name when the right someone comes along. Sweet Shakespeare, the screenwriter has read _way_ too many cheap romance novels!

Meredith Willson: _(Coughs.)_

Marian Paroo: _(Cringes.)_ Uh, cue music!

_Song: "Goodnight, My Something" ("Goodnight, My Someone")_

_Amaryllis__: Goodnight, my something, _

_Goodnight, my fruit!_

_Sleep tight, my something,_

_Sleep tight, my fruit!_

_Our peach is shining its brightest light—_

_Marian Paroo__: (Spoken.) Is that even POSSIBLE?_

_Amaryllis__: —for goodnight, my fruit, for goodnight!_

_Sweet dreams be yours, dear,_

_If dreams you have._

_Sweet dreams as sweet as the taste you give—_

_Marian Paroo__: "Give" doesn't rhyme with "have," numbskull!_

_Amaryllis__: I wish they may and I wish they might…._

_Now goodnight, my something, goodnight!_

_True love can be whispered_

_From heart to heart_

_If berries can have hearts, they say._

_But I must depend on_

_A wish and a peach_

_As long as my heart_

_Doesn't know who to seek…._

_Sweet dreams, be yours, dear,_

_If dreams you have._

_Sweet dreams as sweet as the taste you give._

_I wish they may and I wish they might…._

_Now goodnight, my something goodnight!_

_Goodnight….goodnight._

_(Song ends.)_

**SCENE FIVE: Question mark?**

_(Scene opens in Madison Gymnasium. People everywhere are doing various forms of exercising; some are doing push-ups, some are stretching, some are doing yoga, etc. __Eulalie Mackecknie Shinn__ is leading a song so utterly terrible that it doesn't even deserve to be reproduced, much less parodied.)_

Mayor Shinn: Hello everyone, and welcome to our Fourth of July exercises set up for the indoors here in Madison Gymnasium, account the weather. I'm sure we're all grateful to my wife, Eulalie Mackecknie Shinn, for leading the singing!

Everyone: _(Unenthusiastically.)_ Yay. Clap. Whistle.

Mayor Shinn: Four score and seven—

_(Player piano rewinds very noisily, cutting __Mayor Shinn__ off.)_

Mayor Shinn: Four score and seven—

_(__Jacey Squires__ runs up to __Mayor Shinn__ and shoves a note into his hand.)_

Mayor Shinn: Ah! The school board will now present—

_(__Jacey Squires__ runs up to __Mayor Shinn__ and points at something on the note.)_

Mayor Shinn: Oh….the school board will _not _present a patriotic tableau. Some disagreement about who has to be George Bush, I guess….

Entire Town: _(Facepalm.)_

Mayor Shinn: Instead, the Whatchamacallit Girls of the local wigwam Thingamajig will present a spectacle of my wife—

Entire Town: A spectacle of his wife! HARHARHAR!

Mayor Shinn: CAN I FINISH A SINGLE SENTENCE WITHOUT YOU PEOPLE CUTTING ME OFF FOR SOMETHING STUPID?? AND THAT WAS REALLY IMMATU—

_(Vikings come in armed with torches and spears.)_

Viking 1: Um, sorry to interrupt, but we were looking for Erik the Red?

Marian Paroo: He died in 1003 from an unnamed disease.

Viking 2: Blast.

Viking 3: We do lose more Vikings that way.

_(Exit Vikings.)_

Mayor Shinn: You see that? I'm cursed! Get the Thingamajig Girls of the local wigwam Whatchamacallit out here—

_(A voice is heard from above. It is not singing the Hallelujah Chorus. It is, however, taking advantage of the surround-sound speakers the theater installed two weeks ago.)_

Voice from Above: It's the Whatchamacallit Girls of the local wigwam Thingamajig!

Mayor Shinn: What-freaking-ever! Just get them onstage!

_(Enter __Whatchamacallit Girls of the local wigwam Thingamajig__.)_

Eulalie Mackecknie Shinn: What-chama-callit!

Whatchamacallit Girls of the local wigwam Thingamajig who really need to have their name shortened because it's a waste of ink and the screenwriter's time to type all this: What-chama-callit!

Eulalie Mackecknie Shinn: WHAT-CHAMA-CALLIT!

WGOTLWT (Whatchamacallit Girls of the local wigwam Thingamajig): WHAT-CHAMA-CALLIT!

Eulalie Mackecknie Shinn: I will now count to twenty in an Indian tongue.

_(A large "tongue", presumably Indian, is pushed out onto the stage. It looks suspiciously like a refrigerator box. __Eulalie Mackecknie Shinn__ climbs inside.)_

Eulalie Mackecknie Shinn: One, two, three—

_(An incredibly loud and eardrum-shattering explosion goes off right behind __Eulalie Mackecknie Shinn__.)_

Incredibly Loud and Eardrum-Shattering Explosion: _(Is incredibly loud and eardrum shattering!)_

Eulalie Mackecknie Shinn: AAAAAAAAH! GEORGE, I'M SHOT! DISREGARD THE FACT THAT I AM NOT INJURED IN ANY WAY, SHAPE, OR FORM!

_(__Eulalie Mackecknie Shinn__ is carried off the stage by a fellow __Whatchamacallit Girl of the local wigwam Thingamajig__.)_

Mayor Shinn: Who set off that incredibly loud and eardrum-shattering explosion?

Gracie Shinn: _(In a very annoyingly sing-song voice.)_ I know who did it! Tommy Djilas did it, Tommy Djilas did it!

Tommy Djilas: I didn't do it! But if I had, I would say that that explosion was SO COOL and Mrs. Shinn's face was priceless. And I would probably try to set off one behind the mayor next. Hypothetically speaking, of course.

Mayor Shinn: Tommy Djilas, I would advise you to watch your phraseology!

_(__Tommy Djilas__ is forcibly taken outside by __Constable__.)_

Mayor Shinn: Four score and seven—

Harold Hill: _(Whispers to __Marcellus__.)_ I heard there's a lactose allergy in town!

Marcellus Washburn: I heard there's a lactose allergy in town!

Everyone: Yeah!

Mayor Shinn: Now see here—

Townsperson 1: _(Looking more threatening than __Mrs. Paroo__. This may be because she has a bigger sledgehammer.)_ Well, is it a lactose allergy, or isn't it?

Mayor Shinn: _(Determinedly.)_ Four score and seven—

Harold Hill: _(Whispers to __Marcellus__.)_ We've gotta protect the children!

Marcellus Washburn: We've gotta protect the children!

Everyone: Yeah!

Harold Hill: _(Whispers to __Marcellus__.)_ Smite the devil and keep our young people thin!

Marcellus Washburn: Smite the devil and keep our young people thin!

Everyone: Yeah!

Geico Gecko: Save 15 percent or more on car insurance by switching to Geico!

Everyone: Huh?

Geico Gecko: Tough crowd, tough crowd….how about horse insurance?

Everyone: YEAH!

_Song: "Trouble," reprise, into "76 Calories ("Trouble," reprise, into "76 Trombones")_

_Harold Hill__: May I have your attention please….attention please!_

_I can deal with this trouble, friends,_

_With a wave of my hand, this very hand_

_Please observe me, if you will_

_I'm Professor Harold Hill_

_and I'm here to organize a River City Slushee Company! _

_Oh, think, my friends, how can any ice cream shop_

_  
Ever hope to compete with a yummy slushee?_

_  
Remember, my friends, what a handful of slushee tickets_

_  
did to the famous, fabled walls of Jericho_

_  
Oh, ice cream parlor walls come a-tumbling down!_

Audience: Question mark?

_Oh, slushees'll do it, my friends_

_  
Oh yes, I said a slushee company, do you hear me?_

_I say River City's gotta have a slushee company,_

_And I mean she needs it today_

_Well, Professor Harold Hill's on hand_

_And River City's gonna have her slushees!_

_Just as sure as the Lord made little green apples_

_And those slushees are gonna be multicolored! _

_Johnny, Willy, Teddy, Fred_

_And you'll see the glitter of partially melted ice_

_And you'll hear the slurps of happy children_

_And the happiness of their mothers!_

_And you'll feel something akin to the electric thrill_

_I once enjoyed when Sheetz, Slushee USA,_

_Slurpee, Essential Slush Company,_

_and Jamba Juice_

_all came to town on the very same historic day..._

_Seventy six calories to a serving size_

_To the hundred and ten that's found in ice cream!_

_They were selling their finest wares, and one can't help but stare at_

_the best slush machines ever to be!_

Seventy six calories that your kid ingests,

_With a hundred and ten in ice cream far behind. _

_There were more than a thousand flavors to find ev'ryone's favor, _

_There were cones of every shape and size._

There were copper bottom carts pulled by horse platoons,

_thundering, thundering, all along the way. _

_Double size machines and lots of ice, _

_Each piece of ice catching the sun. _

_There were fifty mounted varieties in the battery, _

_Thundering, thundering, louder than before._

_Vendors of every kind and passersby who'd be inclined _

_To stop and taste for themselves!_

Seventy six calories to a serving size, 

_When the order to serve rang out loud and clear._

_Starting off with a big bang bong on a Chinese gong, _

_By a big bang bonger at the rear._

Seventy six calories that your kid ingests, 

_With a hundred and ten in ice cream far behind. _

_Then I modestly took my place as the owner of Jamba Juice, _

_And I sold to folks up and down the square! (Song ends.)_

Mayor Shinn: _(To the __School Board__.)_ Men, that man's a spellbinder! I haven't seen Iowa people get so excited since the time I got pneumonia and nearly died….still can't figure out why that made them so happy.

School Board: _(Stare in slack-jawed astonishment at __Mayor Shinn__'s utter stupidity.)_

Mayor Shinn: Never mind. I want his papers by Monday morning at the latest!

_(Enter __Constable__ and __Tommy Djilas__.)_

Mayor Shinn: You! You're the ruffian who almost killed Mrs. Shinn!

Constable: No, I didn't!

Mayor Shinn: I was talking to Tommy Djilas, dipwad.

Constable: Oh.

Tommy Djilas: Seriously, though, anyone who calls themselves Eulalie Mackecknie Shinn is begging to have a firecracker set off behind her.

Mayor Shinn: YOU WATCH YOUR PHRASEOLOGY!

_(Tommy Djilas __dies.)_

Harold Hill: Dangit! I guess this means that I can't make him to make an ergonomic slushee cone design and try and get him to go out with your daughter, right?

Mayor Shinn: Yeah, what a shame….WAIT, WHAT??!!!

Harold Hill: _(Nervously.)_ CURTAIN PLEASE!

_(Curtain falls on the scene.)_

**A/N: *wipes tear from my eye* Alas, this is all I've written, as of yet, because I'm too darn lazy to write more at present! But that is likely to change, because my reviewers might take out my liver and eat it with fava beans if I don't write more….and I'm personally quite fond of my liver.**

**Special thanks to all of you who muddled your way through my insanity and made it this far, especially rukiachan15, who is a ridiculously awesome person and fellow sock-enthusiast! Any accuracy in the following scenes will most likely be due to her, because I forget and she has the screenplay. **

**I love you all, platonically and in a completely non-creepy way!**

**(Yes, Jamba Juice is smoothies. So sue me. (Wait, I didn't mean that literally! Oh, your lawyer is Phoenix Wright. Go straight ahead.))**


End file.
